


is it safe to just be who we are?

by itbunnygirl



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Other, but it gets better, im trying to not make all my asra fics just entirely him suffering, mini Angst, something small and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:23:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itbunnygirl/pseuds/itbunnygirl
Summary: Sometimes it’s still too much to bare, trapped in the shop where everything reminds him of the past. Memories bubbling under the surface. They pause sometimes when shuffling the cards or making tea or feeding the stove salamander and their eyes will flicker to him. And they stare and study his face for moment. And he hopes, prays that maybe they remember his hand around their waist or the kisses against the counter or something. But the moment disappears and the look is gone.





	is it safe to just be who we are?

**Author's Note:**

> everything i listened to while writing this:  
love song by lana del rey  
cellophane by fka twigs  
bedroom hymns by florence + the machine  
talia by king princess  
this won’t end quietly by we the committee  
wish that you were here by florence + the machine

Crossing the ocean. Searching for some type of cure for the plague in Vesuvia. Because it was what they would have wanted. Digging through mud and dirt, ashes and bones until his fingers bled and his body ached. Making that stupid deal with the devil himself and giving up half his heart to save them. Three years gone in a flash reteaching them how to walk and talk and everything in between. 

All that Asra did was for them. 

It wasn’t like he tried to be selfish. He didn’t want much. He tried not to ask for more than others were willing to give. It’s why he traveled more than he stayed in the shop. Overwhelmed constantly at everything he felt in this tiny space. Afraid that he’d slip up, press too far, destroy all the progress they’d made together. Their heart wasn’t his anymore but his belonged to them. They were back he should be grateful. Should take comfort in the fact that technically in a manner of speaking they did in fact share the same heart. But it didn’t stop the craving. The sickening hope that would bubble up at their excitement upon his return. Couldnt they give him something. He had given them everything. 

He reached out in dreams. The only place he could be honest. Where he didn’t have to be afraid of overstepping his boundaries. No matter what happened they’d shake it off in the morning and tell him about the silly little dream they had. 

“Oh isn’t that funny, the idea of us together.” Eyes searching his face, a soft hand touching his arm. 

He knows what they’re looking for and almost gives in. But memories of red hair and an obnoxious laugh come to him and he withdraws again. How funny that the one thing that distracted him from your absence is now the one thing distracting you from his.He feels trapped in his thoughts because Faust doesn’t get it and Muriel doesn’t care because he never liked them to begin with. So he leaves and he runs like he always does. They’ll be fine because they always are. He’ll always come back to them. 

He appears again in a cloud of smoke. Arriving home to the familiar smell of pumpkin bread and lapsang souchong. They must have really missed him to be drinking that. They hated tea. Suddenly arms appear around his waist. He lets out a laugh and hugs back. They shake and wrap tighter like if they let go or loosen he’ll disappear into nothing. 

“Is it you??? Is it really???” Their shoulders shoulders shake with the weight of tears that haven’t yet been shed. Fingers clench tightly in his shirt, knuckles white and shaking. “You’ve never done that before. You’ve never not said goodbye. I thought maybe..maybe you were done and tired of me and..and.”

Oh. Asra’s smile flickers out and his laughter turns to lead in his stomach. Bile rises in his throat and he chokes back a sob. He let jealousy and overwhelming feelings do this. He could’ve said something. Anything. He swipes a tear off their cheek and apologizes until his face turns blue. Spinning a tale about a village that called out to him, a village shadowed in mystery and bad luck. Weaving a narrative where he is the unlikely hero hoping to save the day. Instead of the real one where he is the villain, a cowardly demon trying to run from his past and hurting the one he loves. He hates Julian but if theres one thing he learned from him its how to tell a tale. They smile and chuckle at all the right parts and Asra knows he’s been forgiven but he’ll never let himself forget this. 

Sometimes it’s still too much to bare, trapped in the shop where everything reminds him of the past. Memories bubbling under the surface. They pause sometimes when shuffling the cards or making tea or feeding the stove salamander and their eyes will flicker to him. And they stare and study his face for moment. And he hopes, prays that maybe they remember his hand around their waist or the kisses against the counter or something. But the moment disappears and the look is gone. And with a whispered goodbye so is he. 

He’s glad he came back when he did. Spinning them in his arms while Nadia and her sisters play their music in the background. The idea that he couldve missed this, missed another chance to have them in his arms like he used to is like ice water in his veins. His hand clenches a bit tighter around theirs and his gaze burns.

“..all the time we’ve spent together..you've never looked at me this way.”

Never looked at them like this before??? He grins and steals a kiss. 

“You mean I’ve never been caught.”


End file.
